


Lonely

by Little Spoon (JaydenNara)



Series: Occasionally Domestic [12]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, College Student Stiles, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Loneliness, Lonely Derek, M/M, Mates, Nudity, Realization, Wolf Cuddles, Wolf Derek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-04
Updated: 2017-05-04
Packaged: 2018-10-27 21:29:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10817115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JaydenNara/pseuds/Little%20Spoon
Summary: The longer Stiles was gone, the more his scent disappeared from their apartment. Derek kept vigil at the door, just waiting... waiting for Stiles to come home. Finals couldn't be over soon enough for Stiles to be back in their bed where he belonged.





	Lonely

Curled up next to the front door, Derek waited, ears flattened against his head. By 7 pm, the sun had sunk below the horizon, and the apartment was dark. It wasn’t as if he couldn’t see, but Derek hadn’t bothered to turn on any lights throughout the day as he had been home, alone, since Saturday. 

Stiles hadn’t been home in days. In the throws of the chaos of final days of his last semester at Columbia, he popped in occasionally for a shower and a nap between work and the library. Derek did what he could to feed him and lessen stress, which mostly included letting him be. Finals were a stressful time for any student, not that Derek had a great deal of experience, but Stiles insisted that he couldn’t study at home with Derek there, and Derek didn’t have any other place to go.

Apparently, Derek, himself, through no fault of his own, was the distraction. He wasn’t sure he believed Stiles because all he did was read, mix new tracks, workout, and occasionally, went out for a run. The workout seemed to be the biggest issue because Stiles would suck on the end of his pen and mutter about 'stupid, hot, sweaty werewolves,' and then, to avoid studying, Stiles would seduce him. 

Honestly, it wasn’t that hard. Derek couldn’t get enough of his boyfriend, so when Stiles crawled into his lap instead of writing a paper, Derek tried his best to resist, but ultimately, it was a losing battle. Derek's defences would crumble, and he'd fuck Stiles into the closest surface, which was often the floor, which now bore long, deep grooves where Derek's claws had dug into the hardwood.

Several of the Columbia libraries were open twenty-four hours during finals, and that was where Stiles was likely camped. They made the perfect haven. Just enough background noise mixed with hushed quiet. Stiles planned to graduate with honours, and while Derek, theoretically, understood the pressures of writing a final thesis, which Stiles would defend at a later date, he didn’t really.

Derek had never gone to college. In fact, he’d only received his GED a few years ago at Stiles’ suggestion, to which Stiles had taken great pride in embarrassing him at his little graduation ceremony, and then proceeded to plaster pictures all over social media for the pack to see. It had been a spectacle, but Derek really hadn’t expected any less from his boyfriend. Stiles had been proud of him, and that had been enough for him suffer through the humiliation.

It wasn’t as if he had needed to graduate high school. He didn’t have a job. Not a real job. He spun for a few clubs here and there, and was actually quite popular, much to Stiles’ amusement. Superior ears made superior music. If he wanted, he could turn it into a career, but he didn’t need to work.

Stiles waited tables and tended bar at a ‘fancy pants’ restaurant - his words, not Derek’s - not too far from where they lived. He’d tried to tell Stiles on multiple occasions that he didn’t need to work, and he was happy to support him while he finished school, but his boyfriend was stubborn and wanted to be independent. Derek admired him for it, and when he worked late, Derek was there to walk him home at night regardless of the time. But when he didn’t see Stiles for weeks at a time during exam season, it got a little lonely in their loft.

The door protested loudly on its track, light spilling into the dark apartment from the hall, and a body tripped and tumbled over Derek. He didn’t bother to lift his head, but opened his eyes to watch Stiles, sprawled on the floor, struggle to untangle himself from his messenger bag.

“Shit, dude. What the fuck,” Stiles said. He flipped the Batman messenger bag that Derek had given him off his shoulder, then rolled onto his back and sat up. “Why the hell are you lying in front of the door?”

Derek whined softly and buried his nose under his paws.

“Der?” Stiles called. He shifted forward onto his knees and crawled closer. A tentative hand pet his fur, rubbing behind his ears, and Derek leaned into the touch as Stiles settled down on the floor beside Derek. “Hey, big guy. What’s wrong?”

Shuffling forward along the ground, Derek lay his head in Stiles’ available lap. He nudged at Stiles’ stomach until his nose slid under the hem of his shirt and pressed against bare skin.

“Dude, your nose is cold.” Stiles shivered, but the hand in his fur didn’t stop.

Derek inched closer, nudging until he pushed Stiles down onto his back. His large body covered Stiles', likely crushing him under his weight, but his boyfriend said nothing as Derek buried his head under the t-shirt. He settled down over Stiles’ heart. The beat was slightly elevated and anxious, and Derek whimpered. He hated when Stiles was stressed and upset.

“‘kay, this is getting a bit ridiculous,” Stiles said, even as his arms encircled Derek’s neck over the stretched t-shirt and hugged him. “Don’t suppose I could convince you to turn back instead of hiding in my shirt, huh?”

Derek huffed, and Stiles chuckled.

“Yeah. I didn’t think so.” Stiles poked the tip of Derek’s nose where it peeked out from the collar of Stiles’ shirt.

Neither of them moved. They lay together, Derek draped over Stiles’ on the floor of their apartment with the door still wide open while Stiles murmured soft words and encouragement that lingered on the edge of Derek’s mind.

Derek had always been the lone wolf. Not always by choice, but he had been content for the most part. Always running. Always hiding. Never staying someplace more than a few months until he lost the last of his family and found a new one.

Losing his sister, his alpha, had been devastating. He missed Laura, his family; his mom; his siblings; his uncle. More the man his uncle had been rather than the undead manipulative ‘zombiewolf,’ as Stiles called him, that he was today. Cora had migrated back down to South America, and they talked rarely. Visited even less.

Leaving the pack behind had been one of the most difficult choices he’d ever made, but it had been for the best. He’d needed closure. And he’d gotten that when he finally ripped Kate’s throat out and burned her body. Braden had left by that point. He’d been alone and without a home. At least, until home came to him almost four years ago in the form of a hyperactive human filled with enough guilt to rival his own.

Stiles brightened his life, and in turn, he grounded Stiles. They worked well together; give and take; equals.

“As much as I love when you crush me under your wolfy weight, the floor isn’t so great for my back,” Stiles said, and Derek lapped at his chin. “Yeah. No. Your slobbery wolf kisses ain’t gonna work this time. I’m cold and sore. Move this snuggle-fest to bed, and I won’t even make you shift.”

Obediently, Derek disentangled himself and waited quietly for Stiles to lock the door. He trotted behind his boyfriend, claws clicking against the hardwood, and into the bedroom. He hopped up onto the bed and settled down, head on his paws.

Stiles stripped down to his boxer briefs and climbed into bed. “Come here, babe,” he said, and Derek curled up beside him, letting Stiles wrap himself around him and hide his face in his fur. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever. I know I’ve totally neglected you, and I’m in the mood for some good ol’ lovin’, but if you’re not up for it, that’s cool.”

Derek rumbled his assent and lapped at Stiles’ cheek until his boyfriend laughed.

“Not what I meant.” Stiles tried to shove Derek’s head away and escape the eager tongue. “I mean, I love you, dude. Every part of you. Wolf and all, and the cuddling is all sorts of awesome, but there are certain lines I won’t cross, though... is it still, ya know, bestiality if it’s a werewolf." Stiles hummed softly and rested his chin on Derek's back. "You are the man and you are the wolf. It isn’t one or the other. And, you totally lose control in bed with the claws and the fangs, so-”

The shift took over. Derek was human before he even consciously thought it. But he was human, and Stiles was wrapped tightly around his naked body. He silenced Stiles with his mouth until Stiles whimpered breathlessly against him.

Derek rested his forehead against Stiles’. “Shut up, Stiles.”

Stiles grinned, cheeks flushed. “There’s my sourwolf. Miss me?”

“No,” Derek grumbled, and Stiles huffed a laugh at him.

“Liar,” Stiles said, licking his lips. His eyes darted down to Derek’s mouth and back to meet his gaze. “You were moping.”

Stiles was right, but Derek wasn’t going to tell him that. “You look exhausted,” he finally settled on instead. Even in the dark, he could make out the dark circles under Stiles’ eyes and his paler than usual complexion.

“Not lookin’ much better there, big guy,” Stiles countered and flicked him in the nose.

Derek caught the finger between his teeth and flashed his eyes playfully. “Bed was too cold,” he said, sucking Stiles’ finger into his mouth. “Couldn’t sleep without you kicking me in the back.”

“You’re an asshole,” Stiles moaned.

“But I’m your asshole,” Derek breathed, reeling Stiles in so he could bury his nose in his boyfriend’s neck and inhale his scent. 

Little by little, Stiles’ scent had been disappearing from the apartment, and until Stiles had tripped through the door, Derek hadn’t even realized how on edge he’d been without Stiles surrounding him. 

“You smell so good.”

Stiles hummed. His fingers ran through Derek’s hair, tugging gently until he whimpered against Stiles’ throat. “What do I smell like?”

“Like home,” Derek moaned as he bit at Stiles’ pulse. “Like mate.”

When Stiles’ body stiffened against him, Derek reeled back. Stiles stared back at him, slack-jawed, which Derek no doubt mirrored in his own expression.

The concept had been tossed around over the last few years, but never considered seriously. Mates weren’t a one-perfect-match for everyone deal. Stiles wasn’t his soulmate chosen by destiny to complete him. Their love and relationship wasn’t mystical or magical.  Mates were built on compatibility, love, and years of hard earned trust.

Most werewolves never mated. That level of trust was so difficult to achieve, that even his own parents, who had been so incredibly devoted to each other, had already had Laura and his older brother before they formally mated. He’d been the product, which his mom had constantly reminded him of.

Derek’s eyes followed the bob of Stiles’ adam’s apple as he swallowed. “Like... oh, wow.”

“Yeah,” Derek breathed as he brushed Stiles’ hair off his face and cupped his cheek, unable to tear his gaze away. “Wow.”

**Author's Note:**

> You can stalk me on Tumblr here: [Always the Little Spoon](http://always-the-little-spoon.tumblr.com/)


End file.
